


Toss the Pieces, Watch Them Burn

by secondrobin



Series: Our Hearts Beat Together [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Family Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 20:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13349034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondrobin/pseuds/secondrobin
Summary: “Guess you can't call me old anymore, huh?”The familiar voice floats down from above her, and for a moment Lucretia thinks she’s hallucinating. But then her eyes catch a glimpse of red, and she looks up to see a red-robed skeleton staring down at her. “You're still older in spirit, Barry.” She says, voice raspy. “Hah, oh—in spirit. Lup would've liked that one.”--Post-Wonderland, Lucretia and Barry make a brief truce.





	Toss the Pieces, Watch Them Burn

Lucretia stumbles out of Wonderland. She's aged twenty years in two days, several of her ribs and one of her feet are broken, she's covered in cuts and bruises, and she hasn't slept in 48 hours. Maybe longer. She got out of Wonderland, but now she sits on the grass outside and stares at her legs and wonders if she's going to die anyway.  

“Guess you can't call _me_ old anymore, huh?”

The familiar voice floats down from above her, and for a moment she thinks she’s hallucinating. But then her eyes catch a glimpse of red, and she looks up to see a red-robed skeleton staring down at her. “You're still older in spirit,” she says, voice raspy. “Hah, oh—in spirit. Lup would've liked that one.”

She regrets bringing up Lup the second the name leaves her mouth. She expects Barry to blow up, to scream, to attack her—or, worst of all, to leave. But he just floats there, and then he slowly sits next to her. “So, the elves did a number on you.”

“Yeah.” She leans forward, resting her head on her knees. “I think my foot is broken. I don't know how I’m going to get back on it.”

“What about those friends of yours, the ones you were working with—what are their names?”

“Brian and Lucas.”

“Won't they come looking for you soon?”

She shakes her head. “I didn't tell them where I was going. I just left a note, saying I’d…”

“Be back soon,” he finishes. His form trembles, briefly glitching apart before coming back together. He looks over at her, and then he disappears.

She doesn't know what else she expected. Gods know she's undeserving of his time. Lucretia—at least in her own mind—is undeserving of a lot of things, these days.

A few minutes later, she's managed to barely pull herself back to standing. A rustling sound comes from her left, and she turns to see Barry holding a tall branch out for her. She takes it, resting her weight on it and taking a few cautious steps using it as a crutch. “How long of a walk is it?” he asks.

“A day or two.”

He floats next to her. “We should start going, then.”

They don't speak again for a few hours. Barry is the first to break the silence. “Where did you stick Davenport?”

“He's with me.”

“Ah. Does he know he's your dad?”

“No.” She ignores the twisting in her gut. “He… there's a lot he doesn't know.”

“Mm.” A skeletal hand trails out from the sleeve of his robe, running through leaves as they walk. Most of them go through him. “What about Merle?”

“A beach, somewhere nice and warm.” She glances over at Barry. “He has kids now.”

“No shit, really? Good for him, I guess.”

“I’m just glad he's happy.”

The silence stretches again until the forest grows dark enough that Barry makes Lucretia stop and rest for the night. Over the crackling fire that reminds Lucretia too much of Lup, Barry asks “Why did you do it, Creesh?”

She hesitates. She bides her time by searching the ground for a stick, finally choosing one and fiddling with it as she speaks. “I had to.”

“No.” He sighs. “No, you didn't. Did you just… did you think the rest of us weren't capable of it? Weren't capable of finding the relics, of dealing with everything? Did you just think the rest of us were such dead weight to you that you could do it alone better than with our help?”

“Barry, of course not!” she snaps, breaking the stick in half as she does. She tosses the pieces in the fire and watches them burn. “I had to because, in over a century of life, I have never felt anything more unbearable than seeing the people I love suffer when I knew I could fix it. When I knew I could just… take it all away, make everyone forget the weight of thousands of deaths, the weight of…” She bit her lip. “The weight of losing her. I thought it was the best choice, Barry.”

He sighs. “But it wasn’t your choice to make, Creesh.”

Lucretia can't say anything to that. She falls asleep against the tree; and when she wakes up in the morning, her glasses have been set on the ground beside her and a thick red robe is draped over her. She puts her glasses back on and carefully hangs the robe from a tree branch as she pulls herself together enough to continue. Rustling sounds to her left, and then she looks and the robe is back on Barry. “Thank you.”

He shrugs. “Don't sweat it.”

Ten minutes from the Miller’s lab, he turns to her. “Come with me,” he says, “Help me restore everyone’s memories, help me get everyone back together. We can all work on this together, we can find the relics, we can find—” he stops abruptly. Lucretia can picture perfectly what his face would look like now if he still had one, the way he'd be pressing his lips together and running his hand through his hair.

“Barry,” she whispers, “They're so much _happier_ now. Taako has his show, Magnus and Merle got married, Merle has children… we can't just take that away from them and thrust them into this.”

“Creesh, you've gotta stop making decisions for other people.” He sighs. “Fuck. I want them to be happy as much as you do, but none of this is right.”

Before Lucretia can respond, a magic missile sails past her to hit Barry square in the chest. It sends him backwards, and he looks at Lucretia once more before vanishing.

Lucretia tries to turn towards the direction the missile came from. She collapses.

“Lucretia!” A familiar figure sinks down next to her, pulling her into his arms. “Lucretia, darling, where have you been! We were worried sick!”

“I’m sorry, Brian.” She wraps her arms around him, and she realizes before she can stop it than she's begun to cry. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—I thought I was doing the right thing, but I don't know, and I—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

He hushes her, running fingers through her hair. “It’s alright, darling,” he whispers. “You're forgiven.” She doesn't know how to explain to him that she isn't, so she just nods. He stands, carefully picking her up. “You're alright now, I've got you. What happened to you?”

She closes her eyes, resting her head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she mutters again.

 

* * *

 

 

It had been three days since he had last seen Lucretia. Three days since Brian had seen her. Three days since she had _very definitely_ been barely 28 years old. And yet here she was, looking nearly _twice_ that as he carried her back inside.

He carries her inside and takes her to her bedroom, setting her on her bed. She carefully sits down, folding her legs under her and staring at the wall. Brian sits across from her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "That's it, sit, sit down, you–oh, Lucretia, what _happened_?"

Lucretia leans forward to rest her head on his shoulder, entire body shaking so hard he can feel the bed moving. "I didn't–I'm sorry, I didn't–"

"What?"

"I didn't get the relic."

"Lucretia!" He lets out a choked laugh, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing his eyes shut. "Lucretia, darling, it's _fine._ You look like you're lucky to be _alive._ What happened?" Lucretia just shakes her head, wrapping her arms around his waist and refusing to look at him. Brian strokes her hair, hesitating for a moment before gently taking her by the shoulders again and pushing her up.

"No–"

"Shh, darling, shush, it's just me. Let me look you over, you look hurt."

Brian pulls back and scans over her, frowning as he does. Lucretia is covered in cuts and bruises and scrapes, a small patch of her hair is missing, and there’s the matter of her _age_ on top of all of that. He lifts up the pendant that hangs around his neck, bringing it to his mouth. “Lucas? It’s Brian. Lucretia’s back.”

“Oh, shit.” There’s clamoring on the other side of the connection, metal and glass clinking together followed by the sound of something falling to the floor. “Shit! Okay, uh—how bad is it? How bad is she?”

“I’m fine,” Lucretia mutters, lifting her head to the pendant.

“She is _not fine._ Get up here, _now_.” 

“Shit. On my way.”

Brian drops the pendant and looks back down at Lucretia. “Darling,” he says gently, “You need to lay down, okay? Lucas is going to come up and look you over.” She nods, sitting up and wincing. “Can you stand up for just a moment, so I can get the blankets down?”

Lucretia nods again. Brian helps her to her feet and yanks the covers down before looking her over with a frown. She meets his gaze and sighs. “Clothes,” she says, “For the exam. Can you…” she grimaces. “Can you help me?”

“Of course, dear, here…” He tries to tug the zipper of her dress down. Frowns. Tries again. He takes a closer look at it. “Lucretia, is this—is the zipper _melted_?”

“It’s… it’s very possible.”

A bang echoes through the room as the door is thrown open. Lucretia jumps as Davenport runs in. He doesn’t say anything–he doesn’t have the words to, today, he hasn’t since Lucretia left–but his face immediately floods with relief when he sees her. He runs over and she bends down to hug him, wincing as she does. He pulls back, mouth opening and closing a few times as he searches for words that his mind can’t reach. He settles for another hug.

“Davenport,” Brian says gently, “We need to get her laying down.” Davenport nods, taking a step back as Brian grabs a small knife from his belt and very carefully cuts her dress off. He helps he lay down, and Davenport comes over with a throw pillow from her small couch and puts it under her broken foot.

Lucas strides in a moment later, one huge bag tucked under each arm. He unceremoniously shoves everything off of Lucretia’s side table to set them down before he looks over at her. “Alright, what’s the…” His eyes widen as he takes in Lucretia’s face. Brian grimaces at him. Lucas nods, biting down his reaction.

 

“Okay, Creesh, uh… this is probably gonna suck a lot for you, just a heads up. Your foot is either sprained or broken, so that might need to be set; and…” He carefully unwinds a bandage she had made from the hem of her dress and haphazardly wrapped around her arm. “Shit, this might need stitches. Do you want, uh–Brian, can you actually cast sleep on her?”

“It’s fine,” she interrupts, “I can handle it.” A hand sets down on her knee, and she looks down to see Davenport staring at her. She bites her lip. “Okay. Fine. Do it.”

Brian mutters a few words while running his hand through her cropped hair. A moment later, she’s asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Most days, Davenport can’t find any of the words he needs. His mind is like that–he can’t remember words, he can’t remember anything. He doesn’t know how he met Lucretia, but he knows how much he loves her.

When she left, all they had was a note. “Be back soon”, and then her signature. Brian and Lucas were worried, but Davenport was completely consumed with overwhelming panic. He had fallen to the ground, staring at the note. He couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was going to pass out. Brian cast Calm Emotions, but it barely touched him.

“Why did that upset you so much, earlier?” Lucas asked when he had calmed down.

Davenport shrugged. Even if he had the words, he wouldn’t know which ones to use. The panic that had overwhelmed him when he read that note was entirely inexplicable.

When Lucretia returned, he wished he had the words to say a hundred things. To scold her, to tell her he had missed her, to ask if she was okay. But the words escaped him. Most things escaped him.

After Lucas healed her, Lucretia asked Brian to help her into the bath so she could clean up. Davenport waited in her room. He sat on her bed, for a while, then he paced. He’s still pacing when she comes back, clothed in her pajamas and leaning on Brian as he brings her to her bed. She smiles at him, and he manages to smile back. When Brian has gotten her in bed and left them alone, Davenport turns to the door and then hesitates. He doesn’t know how to state what he wants, how to ask for it.

Lucretia smiles at him again. “Do you want to stay the night, Davenport?”

Davenport nods, smiling at her. He grabs a random book off of her bookshelf and settles into the couch, glancing up at her every minutes. The words mostly slide by him, but the routine feels familiar. Like making a cup of tea, or playing cards. Something he’s done since, very literally, before he can remember.

After about an hour, Lucretia breaks the silence. “Davenport?”

“Hm?” Davenport looks up to find her staring at him. He sets the book to the side, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I did something very bad, once,” she whispers, quietly enough that he has to strain to hear her. He stands from his chair, tail flicking behind him as he comes over and takes a seat on her bed. She looks at him for a moment, then looks away. “I… hurt a lot of people. People I cared about.” She glances at him. “Care about. I did it because… they were already hurting, very badly, and I thought that what I was doing would fix it. But now I worry I made the wrong mistake, and hurt them worse. And I had an encounter with one of them recently, and he wasn’t as overtly angry as I thought he would be, and that… it made me feel _worse_? I realized afterwards that I wished he was angry, I wish he had yelled. Why did I do that?”

The words are somewhere in Davenport’s mind. He knows they are. He can feel them on the tip of his tongue, can feel how close he is to having all of the words he needs to fix everything for her. Gods, he wants to fix everything for her. But the words die in his throat, and he just puts a hand on her knee and squeezes. She puts her hand on top of his and sighs.

“Are you mad at me for anything?” She asks, voice trembling. “Will you be? There must be something. Something for you to be angry over. Please?” He shakes his head. Her voice shakes harder. “There has to be something–be mad at me, Davenport, _please._ ”

He moves up and hugs her. She buries her face in his shoulder, and it takes him a moment to realize she’s crying. He holds her tighter, and she cries harder.

A flash in the window catches his eye. He looks up and sees a flash of red in the distance, quickly getting closer. Red. Something about the color stirs something in him, and he feels a word drift up to him through the fog. Too excited at having a word to consider what it means, he blurts out “The Institute.”

Lucretia jerks back like she’s been shocked. “What did you just say?” He points out the window, and she looks over. Her lips press together into a thin, tight line as the blur approaches closer. “Davenport,” she says, “I think you should go–”

He wouldn’t have left, and he knows she knows that. But it doesn’t matter, because the red blur zooms in through the bedroom window before he gets a chance. It stops in the middle of the room, solidifying into a red-robed skeleton that floats there, staring at them.

Davenport knows, logically, that he should be afraid. Floating skeletons are rarely a good omen. But he can’t bring himself to. Another word comes to him, and he lets it escape. “Barry.”

The skeleton jerks, looking at him. “He knows my name?”

Lucretia’s eyes are wide. “He shouldn’t. He–he’s barely been able to say anything for years.”

Davenport slides off of the bed, walking up to the figure. No more words are coming to him–or, rather, a thousand words are coming all at once and then dying instantly. “Hey, Captain,” the figure says, and the word immediately sends static through Davenport’s brain. He grips his head, doubling over as a headache assails him. “Shit!”

“Davenport,” he mutters, “Davenport, Davenport, Davenport…”

A soft shuffling sound comes from in front of him, and looks up to see the figure staring at him. “Dav, hey, you okay?”

“Davenport.”

“Yeah, buddy, I know. Are you okay?”

“Davenport, Davenport.”

“What? Dav, can you… can you say anything else?”

Yes, he wants to say, but not today. Not on a Bad Day. All that comes out is “Davenport.”

The figure freezes for a moment before jerking up to look at Lucretia. “What did you _do_ to him!” Lucretia doesn’t respond, but Davenport glances back and sees tears welling in her eyes again. Anger flares through him at this strange man who rushed into their home and started yelling at his Lucretia, and the words and the memories and the static fades as he tries to shove the man away. His hands go through him, and he tumbles through to the other side. The man whips around.

Behind him, Lucretia stands up on one foot and pulls her wand out. “You need to leave,” she says, “Please.” And then, quietly enough that she probably thinks he didn’t hear, “If he tries to remember, it will kill him.”

The figure freezes for a moment, then begins ricocheting wildly around the room. Lucretia’s room is being torn to shit and the man keeps yelling, something about how he knows Lucretia is hiding it and they need to give it to The Captain. Davenport looks around. He doesn’t know who The Captain could be.

A ray of light leaves Lucretia’s room; and when it fades, the figure is gone. She sits back down, putting her head in her hands. Davenport sits next to her, putting a hand on her back. He manages to get out, “Who?”

Lucretia swallows. “That was… that was a member of an ancient organization. I’ve had… a few run-ins with them, but never… so close up. I’ve never been that close to a… a Red Robe.”

“Red Robe?”

“Yes, a Red Robe. They’re… evil. Evil beings who, I’ve long suspected, created the relics.”

He exhales. A word comes to him. “Lich?”

Lucretia looks surprised, but nods. “Yeah, he’s a lich. So we…” She hesitates, for just a moment. Then she grabs her Stone of Farspeech off of her table. “Lucas? Brian? Are either of you awake?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

Lucretia sighs. “Do either of you know anything about anti-lich enchantments?”


End file.
